Spring Fires (14 page)

At length, craving another potent kiss, she urged him upward with her hands. Nicholai did shift so that his forbidding face was above hers, but there were no kisses. Deliberately, he moved the rest of his body so that he lay between her legs; then he pressed his hips to hers. Through her gown, she felt his tantalizing hardness against the core of her own hot ache. Swallowing a tiny whimper, she wished he would lift her skirts and end this torture.

"You want it, don't you?" he asked harshly.

She saw the ruthless glint in his eyes, but couldn't help nodding. After all, he knew it was true. "Yes," she whispered.

Nicholai swung his legs free and stood up. "Dear Lisette, you must make a record of this, for it is certainly a milestone. Not only have we discovered an undertaking that you were not
quite self-sufficient enough to complete alone, but I've also witnessed your first request for
assistance."
Rolling down his cuffs, he never looked at her, but continued caustically, "However, knowing how adamantly you reject all forms of rescue from
men
,
my conscience will not allow me to interfere. No doubt you'll thank me later."

Seething with angry humiliation, Lisette stood to face him and promptly slapped his face as hard as she could. "You arrogant, odious beast!"

Instantly, his hands gripped hers with crushing strength. "Knowing your views on equal treatment for women, I ought to return that slap. Strike me again and you will be repaid."

"Let go, before I call for Stringfellow. I must fasten my gown and return to work." When the task was done, she stared murderously up at Nicholai. "I'd have been better off with that villain Marcus Reems!"

"May I remind you that
you wanted to continue this little—interlude, and it was I who called halt."

She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a quiet knock at the study door. After glaring at Nicholai she went to answer it.

"Hello, Lisette."

It was Lion Hampshire. His eyes quickly took in her state of dishabille, then fell on Nicholai.

"Well! Hello, Mr. Beauvisage. I'm sorry if I interrupted your conversation—" He searched Nicholai's face for a hint of the situation.

"No!" countered Lisette. "He was just leaving."

"Please—stay a moment," Lion said to Nicholai, raising both brows meaningfully. "I'll be brief."

"As you wish," he replied.

"The fact is, Lisette, that Hyla spoke to me today and told me that Marcus Reems has been harassing you about a loan, and pressuring you to sell the CoffeeHouse to him."

"That is correct, Senator, but I think Hyla should tend to her own affairs."

"She is concerned—and so am I. For an hour, I've sat alone in a corner of the public room, considering this matter. I know that you want to keep the CoffeeHouse in business on your own, but after all, it was your father who took the loan. Shouldn't you be able to begin with a clean slate?"

"Please sit down." Lisette offered him the corner chair, then seated herself opposite. In the background, Nicholai lounged against the far wall and listened.

"My offer is simple. I would like to loan to you the amount due on Ernst's note, so that you will be able to free yourself from Marcus Reems. I attach no conditions except repayment as you are able. You will be able to tell Reems that you stand alone and will not need his contribution."

To Nicholai's amazement he heard Lisette reply, "I wish I were in a position to say no, but I am not. I am honored to accept your kind offer—and I shall repay you with all possible speed."

Nicholai's reaction was immediate and brusque. "I must leave. Good day." Passing them, he nodded once at Lion, but ignored Lisette completely.

Back in the keeping room, he was oblivious to Hyla Flowers's curious stare as he retrieved his cravat and jacket. Pulling them on while he walked, Nicholai went through to the public room. Stringfellow was winding his way between the tables when he felt an iron band grip his arm. The tray almost slipped and he looked around crossly.

A dangerous-looking Nicholai Beauvisage narrowed jewel-hard eyes at him and growled, "Stringfellow, don't you
ever
again consider me as a possible savior for your Lisette-in-distress. If she makes a mess of her life, it won't be more than she's striven for and deserves!"

Stringfellow was still rooted to the spot, staring and clutching his tray, a full minute after Nicholai's broad shoulders had disappeared through the CoffeeHouse door.

Chapter 13

April 18, 1793

The baskets of crimson strawberries were a pretty sight in
the twilit keeping room. Lisette sat on her stool, rinsing and cleaning them with uncharacteristic languor, pausing at intervals to sample a particularly plump berry.

Across from her, Hyla Flowers was polishing silver. Silently, she gave thanks for Sundays, when they had a chance to breathe again
.
She pushed back a lock of frizzy coral-tinted hair and regarded Lisette. How listless she seemed! Her thick-lashed blue eyes were dreamy and sad, and each breath she took was nearly a sigh.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, what ails you? Are you sick?"

"Oh—no, no, Hyla." She managed a weak smile. "Perhaps it's spring fever."

"I know what you need," Hyla decided. "You spend every waking moment cooped up here. The only fresh air you ever get is when you go out to the market. I think the best thing you could do would be to treat yourself to a nice long walk. It's a rare evening and you'd have a chance to just relax and clear your mind."

Lisette started to decline, then paused. "Do you know, Hyla, I believe you are right. It isn't healthy for me to stay in here all the time; I
will
go out for a stroll."

Grinning with pleasure, the older woman sent her upstairs to wash and put on a fresh gown. A quarter hour later, Lisette was waving good-bye, clad in a soft butter-yellow frock with a fichu of white gauze, her tousled blond curls intertwined with a yellow muslin fillet. Against these sunny colors, her eyes were bluer than the sky.

It did feel wonderful to be outdoors. The smells of the waterfront were a welcome change, and it was fun to pass people on the footpaths and exchange smiles and greetings. As the flaming sky shaded toward violet blue and lamps were lit, Lisette meandered up Front Street to Walnut, then strolled south along the bends of Dock Street. She watched the handsome three-story brick row houses turn inward for the night, curtained windows burnished gold, and wondered where Nicholai was—with whom was he talking and... laughing?

A woman?

She wondered, leaning against a dogwood tree, what sort of life he led. Since the day in the study, when she accepted Lion Hampshire's loan, Nicholai had not set foot in the CoffeeHouse. Lisette knew, because not an hour passed that she did not find an excuse to tour the public room. Her mind insisted that she was well rid of his disruptive influence, but her heart and body found him difficult to forget. At night, when she lay in bed, blurry eyed with fatigue, she remembered what he had said to her about "needs," the expression on his face when he'd said that she possessed qualities he wanted to explore, and the offhand tone with which he'd offered to lend her the money to pay off Marcus Reems. Alone in the darkness, Lisette tried to ignore the nagging inner voice that insisted that she had erred in the way she'd handled
that
situation. In fact, it seemed that she hadn't ever said or done the right thing in Nicholai's presence... she'd been moody, stubborn, childish—and shamelessly lacking in willpower.

With a bitter sigh, Lisette continued to walk alone through the night, south toward Spruce Street. She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes and tried to convince herself that she was better off without emotional involvements... especially with a man like Nicholai Beauvisage.

* * *

At that moment, Nicholai was seated in a wing chair in his study, smoking a cheroot and staring at a message just arrived from Lion Hampshire.

It is important that I speak with you tonight. May I come to your house at eight o'clock?

L.H.

Nicholai scowled at the words. He could guess what was on Lion's mind, for he hadn't gone near the CoffeeHouse or Lisette Hahn in more than a week. There was simply no possible way for him to continue this charade of keeping track of Marcus Reems, for he refused to endure another meeting with the maddening Mistress Hahn. Lisette had believed his visits to be products of his entrancement with
her,
and after her cutting acceptance of Lion's loan, Nicholai refused to flatter her any further.

But how to explain to Lion? Why couldn't Marcus Reems's scheme have involved some other female? Nicholai truly wished he could help Hampshire—but not at a sacrifice to his own self-respect. And he couldn't explain his situation with Lisette to Lion.

"Damn it!" he swore. The note was crushed in his fist and he tossed it into the fire. After shifting the chair around to the handsome fall-front desk, Nicholai took quill in hand and wrote:

Sorry, NO.

N.P.B.

It seemed that the only solution was for him to be so rude that there would be no questions. It was simpler to be thought callous and irresponsible than to expose his chaotic relationship with Lisette.

Oliver was summoned to deliver the message, and when he was gone, Nicholai relaxed with a brandy and the remainder of his cheroot. A strange night indeed. He had wriggled out of an invitation from Anne and William Bingham to share supper with them and cousin Ophelia after Caro begged him to join them at Belle Maison. However, it had been nearly a week since he'd seen the restlessly married Amelia Purdy, and when her message arrived yesterday informing him that her husband would be away tonight, Nicholai canceled his plans at Belle Maison. He was more in the mood for unemotional sex than for another performance of Caro and Sacha as the consummate married couple. If there was any justice in the world, he'd be at Amelia's now and be spared the problem of Lion's request, but it seemed, as of an hour ago, that Mr. Purdy had a last-minute change of plans.

Nicholai ground out his cheroot and drained the brandy. He should have found other female companionship by now; this business with Amelia was ridiculously unpredictable, and besides, she wasn't his match under the sheets. That would have to be his spring project now that he'd rid himself of the Reems-Hahn enterprise. It was cheering to look forward to lovely, uncomplicated coquettes who would gaze at him adoringly and melt in his embrace. Just the thing. Much more enjoyable and relaxing than trying to get close to the prickly, fitful Lisette Hahn. Let her eat bear meat until kingdom come—
he
certainly didn't care.

There was a knock at the front door. Welcome and Felicity had already retired to their quarters attached to the kitchen building behind the garden. Oliver usually slept in a chamber located in front of the study, but tonight he had asked if he might pay a visit to his sweetheart after delivering the message to Lion Hampshire.

Sighing, Nicholai rose and glanced in the mirror. His cravat was loosened casually, his hair ruffled even more negligently than usual, and he wore no jacket, only an unbuttoned fawn waistcoat. Deciding that, as master in his own home, he had a right to be as disheveled as he pleased, Nicholai went down the marble hallway.

When he opened the door, he found Lisette Hahn standing there, looking humble and utterly lovely in a simple yellow gown.

He blinked. "Lisette?"

"Had you forgotten me?" She gave him a hopeful smile.

"Of course not! But what is it? Is something wrong?"

Still on the doorstep, she noted the appearance of his clothing. "No, nothing is wrong. Is there a woman here? If you are occupied, I will go... it was foolish of me to knock at all—'"

"Of course there isn't a woman here!" Nicholai chided in mock dismay. "Come in. I am breathless with curiosity to learn why you are here."

He took her back to the study and she looked around the narrow, cozy room while he poured two glasses of wine.

"I like your furniture much better without the holland covers." She smiled. The camelback sofa was upholstered in a Chinese pattern of terra-cotta, gold, and dark green, while the chairs were green velvet.

"Thank you." Nicholai's entire approach was wary, from the humor in his voice to the amount of wine he poured. He could only wonder what the devil was going on. "Let's sit here by the fire while you tell me what has prompted this
most
unexpected visit. I wasn't aware you ever wandered more than a few feet from the CoffeeHouse."

"You have endowed me with several peculiar traits, Mr. Beauvisage. First you believed me unable to laugh—"

"Nicholai. For the hundredth time, call me Nicholai." Somehow, he felt that she used this formality to keep him at arm's length. "And, since we are in my house, before
my
fire, I must take a turn at naming the conditions to be met if you remain."